One More Song
by Solidae
Summary: Do you guys even remember this one? S/V fluff, Chap3, Warehouse is up! Moved to R for language, Please R/R
1. Sydney

This is my first try at a Fanfic-it's total fluff!

I hope you like it....

Disclaimer:

I so do not own any of these characters. So don't sue me.

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She was already three beers and two tequila shots deep when she got the page. Damn! What was he doing paging her on a Saturday night? She didn't have an assignment, and she couldn't imagine why he would need to talk to her at 12:30 on the only night she had out with her friends. It would figure that he would call her after she had too much to drink.

Not that she didn't want to see him. In fact, nothing sounded better. She always got touchy-feely when she was drunk, and lately there was only one man she had been thinking of. But there was no way she could make it to him, she wasn't designated tonight. She would just have to convince him to come to her. Tossing back her last shot of tequila, she weaved her way through the crowed dance floor to the pay phones at the back of the bar.

"I can't make it to you tonight. Come to me instead. I'm at Club Vah-Shir with Francie. Ask me to dance. I'll be waiting."

She hadn't been able to hear him over the music. She didn't know if he had protested, but she was proud of how succinct she had been. She was sure he didn't know she was drunk. Not yet anyway. But with her head spinning it was only a matter of time before the haze took over completely. If she had waited another ten minutes to call him she was sure she would have rambled incoherently. That's what he gets for calling on Saturday night. She felt the beat of the music fill her chest, and went back to the table to wait for him. 

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"Would you like to dance?" 

She had almost forgotten that he was coming, it had taken so long. But he looked wonderful. She rarely saw him this way, but it was a welcome change. Wearing a light weight sweater that hugged his chest and begged to be touched. Well, maybe the sweater didn't beg, but she was about to. His hair was always so messy, like he just rolled out of bed. But she knew that it was purposeful, and she wondered if he had styled it that way for her. 

A slower song was playing, and she put her hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor. She was surprised at the almost unconscious way he intertwined his fingers with hers so that he wouldn't lose her in the crush. He led her to the middle of the floor, deep in the throng of warm, moving bodies. There were so many people on the floor it felt as if the whole place was moving together. Maybe that was just the tequila. 

He slipped his arms around her waist and leaned down to her ear so that she could hear him. But she didn't really hear him anyway. Whatever he was saying wasn't as important as the intricate patterns she was tracing on his chest, or the way that his aftershave tickled her nose, or the soft scratch of his five o'clock shadow against her cheek. 

"... so I'm sorry I had to contact you like this."

His eyes are so green. And he was telling her he was sorry! What a wonderful man. She sighed, putting her cheek on his shoulder, slowly rubbing her face back and forth against the fabric. The sweater really was as soft as it looked, but he wasn't. He was warm and strong underneath it.

"Sydney? Hey, did you hear anything I just said?" He seemed concerned. She had to laugh, for the only thing she could recall was the beat of his heart against her cheek and the pounding bass of the music. She was spinning, and her palms were itching with the need to touch him, and he was in her arms...and she had never felt better.

"Syd... are you drunk?!" He seemed incredulous. Like he couldn't imagine her any way but competent.

"Maybe just a little." She laughed again. It was so good just to be with him like this. He was swaying with her, and he didn't even realize that his hand was massaging circles into the small of her back.

"Look, why don't we go over this tomorrow instead? I shouldn't of bothered you tonight, and it looks like you won't be retaining any of this anyway. I'll call you tomorrow, OK?"

He was leaving?! No! He couldn't leave now!

"Wait!" She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him back to her.

"Don't leave me, not yet." Did she sound desperate? She hoped not, but then again, she felt desperate. She needed to be with him just a little while longer, here in public, with all of these people and her head swimming and their bodies moving and pressing towards each other. 

She told him so.

"Sydney," he was looking in her eyes and smiling the smallest smile and she thought she could look at him forever... "You don't know what you are saying right now, you aren't yourself." He was cupping her cheek with his palm, and his other palm was slipping against hers as he brought it up to his chest. 

"I would love to stay here with you, but we are already risking our lives by being here together. I really should go. I will call you tomorrow. Late tomorrow." He smile reached his eyes and they crinkled just slightly at the corners. 

She loved that too. She loved everything. She moved closer.

"Vaughn, I do know what I'm saying. I'm just not scared to say it anymore." She slipped her free hand up over his shoulder to the back of his neck and let her fingertips graze his hair. "Please stay with me a little longer. Just one more song, that's all I ask. Please."

Her mouth was dry, and her heart was beating hard. At that moment, it seemed so important that he accommodate this one wish. He would do that for her, wouldn't he? 

Wouldn't he do anything for her?

He was hesitant. "One more song. I'll stay with you for one more song." The smile had faded from his eyes, and he was looking at her as if there was no one else in the club. He slipped his hands back around her waist and slowly, deliberately drew her closer to him. 

There was no talking now. 

The moved rhythmically to the heavy, slow downbeat of the electronica music that the DJ was playing. She let her breasts graze his chest as she hooked her fingers through the belt loop at his side, her other hand still caressing the hair at the back of his neck. Slowly she put pressure to the back of his neck, and reaching up, she let him take her weight as she leaned against him, pulling his face close to hers. He never took his eyes from her as she lightly pressed her lips against his. She felt her eyes flutter as she softly rolled her head back and forth, molding her lips to his, barely touching him at all.

He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. She drew away confused, disappointed. He hadn't reacted at all. She felt his hand on her chin, drawing her face up to look at him.

"Be careful what you wish for Sydney. You just might get it." 

His eyes were hot, and for a moment she was frightened. But that moment passed quickly as his hand tightened on her jaw, and he slowly leaned down to press against her, giving her plenty of time to pull back. But she wasn't going to pull back, and he knew it.

His lips were hard and hot and spicy, and his tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking her to let him in. 

She relented and he tasted her. 

Invaded her. 

Consumed her. 

He was coffee and mint and spice and her head was spinning and she could of been anyplace, anywhere, as long as he was doing this to her. His one hand flattened out against her cheek, dragging into her hair, and his other was tight against her back, splaying across her tailbone, pulling her closer, as close as he could. 

It wasn't close enough. 

It would never be close enough. 

Her pelvis bumped against his, and she moaned into his mouth. He took her breath away, and she let him have it. He could have anything he wanted.

He never stopped moving to the beat, and the sound intermingled in her mind with the alcohol and his heartbeat and her heartbeat and the ringing in her ears and the blood flowing through her veins. 

Her thigh rubbed against his and his breath caught, giving her a chance to catch hers. 

He pulled away and changed the slant of his head, coming back for more, trying to taste and explore all of her. She wanted him to, she was his for the taking. 

And then his hands were on her shoulders, pushing her away. She was startled from the shock of losing his mouth, his touch. She looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her now, was in fact looking over her, around her, anywhere but at her. His breathing was hard, but his face was cold when he finally spoke. 

"Song's over, Sydney."

And then he was gone.


	2. Vaughn

Ok, so here is the same night from Vaughn's POV. I hope it helps to clear some things up. 

-Steph

Please review!

Disclaimer: I so do now own any of these people, so don't sue me.

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He was a moron.

An idiot.

A complete ass.

He had gone against everything that his training had taught him, not to mention his own morals. 

He had taken advantage of her.

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He had been surprised at her request when she called. He could hear music pulsing in the background, her voice overly loud to compensate. Part of him wanted to wait until the next day to see her, knowing that it was dangerous to meet her in such a crowded place face to face. But then his reasoning left him at the thought of seeing her on a Saturday night, dancing with her as if they were anybody else, just two normal people out on the town. Not that it would of mattered, as she had hung up the phone before he could say anything to stop her.

He had agonized over what to wear like some 15 year old going to cotillion. He wanted to look good for her. No- scratch that. He wanted to look great. He wanted to be the only man in the place that she noticed. He wanted her to look at him as if she had never seen him before. 

He wanted things to be different then what they were.

He was a fool.

He had spent thirty minutes messing up his hair just so, because she seemed to like it that way. He had worn his favorite sweater, and now as he stripped it off he paused to hold it to his face. It smelled of her. He vowed never to wash it, then threw it into the laundry hamper. Who was he kidding?

He had stared at her for a long time before approaching her, making sure he didn't seem too anxious. It was very important that he not give too much of himself away. He had already let her know too much, and if she knew how he really felt she would have the power to destroy him. He wasn't ready for that yet.

He didn't know if he would ever be ready for her.

She had looked so lovely. Her hair was loose and soft around her shoulders, and it whispered against her upper arms, bared by the sleeveless shirt she had been wearing. She was smiling and laughing, her face alight with the pleasure of being young and beautiful and free, even momentarily. She never looked like that when he was around her. 

He hadn't wanted to interrupt her, but he was drawn to her.

He had needed to be next to her.

He could close his eyes and still see her there.

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"Would you like to dance?"

Her eyes made him feel bold, and she looked at him as though she had been waiting for him all night. Of course, it was 2:00 in the morning, and as it had taken him forever to get there, the look might have been from impatience. 

He vowed to stop analyzing everything so much. 

Instead he grabbed her hand tightly, and felt daring as he wrapped his fingers between hers. She didn't seem to notice, but instead followed him blindly. He stopped when they were deep in the middle of the dance floor. It was so hot, and the lights were changing every few seconds and warm bodies were pushing all around them. It would have been too claustrophobic for him to handle if he had been with anyone else. But being there with her made it perfect. 

He pulled her into his arms and leaned down so that he could speak into her ear. It was small and perfect and he could actually seem to feel the slight space left between his lips and the indention where it met the curve of her jaw. There was a fine layer of sweat covering her neck. It mesmerized him.

He wanted to taste it.

Her hair smelled faintly of apples and soft strands of it were caught against his face. He probably didn't need to be this close, but she didn't seem to think anything of it. 

What was he supposed to be saying? He'd forgotten.

He was babbling on and on and he didn't even know what he was doing here anymore. She was touching him with her fingers, rubbing them over and over against his chest. 

How was anyone expected to concentrate under these conditions?

He shouldn't of come here. He shouldn't have bothered her tonight. 

"...I'm sorry I had to contact you like this." She was smiling at him. Her eyes were so large, her dimples so sweet. She was beautiful.

She didn't say anything to him, but instead started rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. 

A suspicion began in the back of his mind.

"Sydney? Hey, did you hear anything I just said?"

She was laughing, and still she didn't say anything. Great.

"Syd... are you drunk?!" He should of known. How could he not tell? Great. Great. Great.

"Maybe just a little." She was laughing again, like it was so funny that he hadn't noticed.

He was such an idiot!

He couldn't expect her talk about work right now, and he so didn't want to be that guy that took her away from the only fun night she had. He was bigger than that. 

"Look, why don't we go over this tomorrow instead? I shouldn't of bothered you tonight, and it looks like you won't be retaining any of this anyway. I'll call you tomorrow, OK?"

That was smooth. Wasn't pushy at all. He could still come out of this being a sweetheart. He would just turn around, and walk away.

"Don't leave me! Not yet!" She was touching his arm and her fingers were burning his skin through the fabric. She started rambling something about being there with him and pressing their bodies against each other. 

His mouth went dry.

He was sinking fast.

He licked his lips and smiled and tried to play the nice guy. "Sydney, you don't know what you are saying right now, you aren't yourself." He had to touch her, had to feel her cheek and rub his palm against hers. What the hell was he doing?! He had to get out of here.

"I would love to stay here with you, but we are already risking our lives by being here together. I really should go. I will call you tomorrow. Late tomorrow." 

That was good. That one should work. 

He was losing it.

"Vaughn, I do know what I'm saying. I'm just not scared to say it anymore." She was touching the hair on his neck and he was getting goose bumps. "Please stay with me a little longer. Just one more song, that's all I ask. Please."

He would do anything she wanted him to. 

"One more song. I'll stay with you for one more song." What harm could one more song do, anyway? 

They were playing a song by Portishead. God, why did have to be such a slow song? It was a dance club for Christ's sake. 

He wasn't going to make it.

She was rubbing back and forth against him to the beat, and her fingers were tugging on his belt loop. She was asking for trouble, but he was strong. He could be strong.

But then she kissed him.

He could have stopped her, probably should have stopped her. But he had to know what she was going to do, what was going to happen next.

He didn't stop her.

He kept his eyes open, glued to her as she pressed herself against him, a dead weight against his chest. Her lips were so soft against his, barely touching him. 

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't believe it.

She was looking at him like she expected more. He wanted to give it to her.

"Be careful what you wish for Sydney, you just might get it." 

He wanted to be gentle, but her skin was so soft against his fingers and her eyes were pleading with him and he wanted to taste her so badly. 

He went in for the kill.

Her lips were full and silky and his tongue felt rough against them. And then she let him inside and - Oh, God she was wet and hot and tasted of beer and tequila and it was heaven.

He lost it. 

He pulled her closer, his fingers dragging through her hair. Her tongue was rubbing against his and he wanted to get closer still and crawl inside her and be like this with her forever. 

She was clinging to him and her hands were clenching against his hips and her thighs were brushing against his and the friction was taking his breath away. 

Had anyone ever died from kissing? 

He couldn't imagine a better way to go.

Her lips were seared to his and the kiss was going on and on. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her home with him. He wanted to strip her clothes off, feel her body, feel her skin against his. 

He pictured her in his bed, between his sheets, between her thighs. He wanted to hear her voice as she whispered things to him, told him her secrets, told him how to make her happy.

And he would do anything to make her happy.

God how he loved her. 

He pulled back. 

What was he doing? He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. This was all wrong. He was pressing his advantage, and she was letting him. 

He wanted her to come to him when she was lucid and there wasn't alcohol clouding her mind. No matter what happened tomorrow, she was going to regret this. Girls always regretted the things they did when they were drunk. Fact of life.

His mother would be so ashamed of him right now.

He had to get away from her before he did something she would never forgive him for.

"Song's over Sydney."

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He was a moron.

An idiot.

A complete ass.

He had gone against everything his training had taught him, not to mention his own morals.

He had taken advantage of her.

Taken advantage of the situation.

He had to figure out some way to fix this before he called her tomorrow.

There would be no sleep tonight.


	3. Warehouse

Authors Note: Ahhh! For some reason F/F wouldn't let me upload, and I panicked! So I started over, and now I have lost all of my lovely reviews...Please R/R!

Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, but I just couldn't seem to get it right. I finally had to resolve myself to leaving it the way it was so that I could finally move on to the next chapter. So let me know if you hate it, but try and be kind. I tried to keep them as close to character as I could while still being cranky with each other. Hmmmm.....

Well, here goes!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. If I did I would make them clean my house.

Rating: Getting to an R for language

Spoilers: None really

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She hadn't answered the phone when he'd called, her roommate Francie had. He didn't even know if she was going to show up or not. He had waited until 2:00 in the afternoon to call her, hoping that would give her enough time to sleep off her hangover. 

Apparently it didn't.

He had been waiting in the semi-darkness for her for over an hour. It just gave him more opportunity to pick apart the events of the night before. 

He should never of gone there.

He never should of left.

What had he said to her? Song's over? 

That was not the most appropriate thing he could have said, by any means. What had he been thinking? 

He should of left without saying anything. That would of been smoother, would of made her wonder what he was thinking.

He never should of left at all.

He still didn't know what he was going to say to her when she got there. He thought that maybe the best course of action at this time was no action at all. 

He was afraid that his mouth had already gotten him into enough trouble where she was concerned. 

Or maybe it was her mouth that had gotten him into trouble.

Oh, God. 

Her mouth. 

That was enough of that. He wanted nothing more than for her to show up and tell him that she still felt the same way she had last night. But he couldn't expect that from her. For all he knew he could of been anybody to her.

But he couldn't forget the way she felt. The way she tasted. The way she responded.

He shouldn't of left her that way. 

He was an idiot no matter what he did. He could only hope that she had forgiven him. 

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She parked outside the warehouse and pulled the rearview mirror down to eye level. 

She looked like shit. 

She felt like shit.

She had barely dragged herself out of bed when he'd called, and had to that point been blessed with a few moments of oblivion in regards to the events of the previous evening. 

As soon as she heard Francie complaining about all the wrong numbers they were receiving it had come back to her. She had felt the blood rush up through her cheeks to her already throbbing temples.

What had she done?

She had acted like some sort of drunken fool. And he had rejected her.

She had to admit that she was angry with him.

Very angry.

But it was more than that. She felt hurt, wounded. She wanted to cry, but there was no point. Francie had figured him to just be part of some late night drunken bar thing. She couldn't talk to her, couldn't explain that he was more than that. Francie wouldn't understand why she was so upset. 

So she had picked herself up and cleaned herself off. She had felt a little better after a purposely extended shower, determined that she not rush to his side. She'd taken her time getting ready and driving to the rendezvous, giving herself a pep talk the entire way there. 

Why was she beating herself up over him? He was the fool, not her. She had taken a chance and offered him the world and he had turned her down and walked away.

And he was bound to regret it. 

She had her pride, and she wouldn't bend to him. Not even if it killed her. It should be easy compared to all of the other things she had done in the past to protect herself.

As she looked at herself in the rearview she steadied her resolve. Today she was the cold-hearted woman of months ago. Today she was Sydney Bristow the bitch, and she wasn't about to prostitute herself to Michael Vaughn. 

NO WAY. 

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He could hear her shoes on the cement of the warehouse floor, and they were strong and purposeful. For some reason he had expected her to be hesitant, shy even.

She never failed to surprise him.

She opened the chain link gate that separated the area he had secured away from the rest of the warehouse and walked straight towards him.

She didn't speak. 

She didn't smile.

She didn't flinch.

He knew he was in trouble.

"Hey there. I was afraid that maybe you wouldn't of gotten the message that I had called. I wasn't sure if you would be awake yet." 

He tried to keep his tone light, and smiled softly at her while he spoke. She looked beautiful, but she also looked mean. She had her 'move or I'll make you move' look on her face. This wasn't exactly what he had expected.

"Cut the chitchat and get to the point. What do you need me to do?"

Ouch. 

Yep, she was pissed.

"Ok. Well, It seems that the guys in surveillance have been getting some great intel from the bug that you planted in Sloane's home office. Along this line of thinking, they have decided that it would be a good idea to plant another similar device in his personal vehicle. We believe that Sloane does a lot of his business planning on his cel while he is commuting to the office. We were hoping that you could ask Sloane to lunch outside of the office one day this week, and slip the bug under the seat of his car in the process."

"Fine. Give me whatever is it you have to give me, and then can I get out of here?"

Yikes. It was worse than he thought. He couldn't let her leave this way. She was obviously upset about last night, and regardless of whether it was because she'd kissed him or because he had left her, he had to try and talk to her about it. 

"It's in the box by the door; you can grab it on your way out. But there's one more thing I think we need to talk about before you go."

She didn't look happy about it. In fact, she looked like she hated him. 

"I don't have all day to sit around and shoot the breeze with you, Vaughn."

Her voice was hard and cold. He re-evaluated his previous notion. He was going to have to suck it up and tell her how he felt or he would never get around this.

"Sydney, look, about last night..."

"Last night?! You want to talk about last night? That's priceless. What could you possibly have to say about last night that hasn't been said already? The phrase 'Song's over, Sydney' pretty much summed it up for me."

She went from cold to vicious in six seconds flat. He felt himself sink deeper into the hole he was in.

"Look Sydney, I understand that you are upset with me, but I want you to know that..."

"What exactly is it that you want me to know? That you _understand_ that I had too much to drink last night? That these sorts of things happen _all_ of the time? That it's _no big deal_? That while it may be _awkward_, we can still salvage our professional relationship?"

Her voice somehow had managed to get smaller and more venomous throughout her tirade, and was now coming out of her mouth in a harsh whisper. 

"Don't worry, _Vaughn_. I understand that you don't feel anything for me. I understand that you don't think of me _that way_."

She was ripping into him, and she didn't even know what he was trying to say. 

"Hey, that isn't what I meant..."

"Oh, really? Well, what did you mean when you left me standing there on the dance floor?

You know what? Never mind, I don't want to know. But don't you worry; I'm not going to give you another thought. This is the way you want it, you got it."

Ok, that was uncalled for. Now she was pissing him off.

"Hey, this isn't the way I want it at all! What did you expect me to do Sydney? Did you actually think that I could just stand there in the middle of that dance floor and make out with you like we were just two normal people? Our relationship can never be like that Sydney, no matter what you may think, no matter how bad I may want it! 

Besides, for all I knew you were just waiting for someone, anyone, to be on that dance floor with you, and I was the one that came along! How am I supposed to know what you are thinking? For every inch you give me, you take away three! Damnit- I don't know what you want from me!"

Shit! That isn't what he meant to say at all- damn her! She just made him so mad sometimes with her self centered tirades and her filibusters and he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. 

"You know what Vaughn?"

He was almost as pissed off at her at this point as she was at him. She could be so difficult to deal with, and she wouldn't even give him an inch.

"No, Sydney, I don't know. Enlighten me."

Maybe just a little too much sarcasm there. 

"Go fuck yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Consider yourself enlightened." 

God, she could be such a bitch! She knew just how to push his buttons.

He had never wanted her more. 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and cruelly dragged her to him, catching her off guard and sending her off balance, bringing his face within millimeters of hers.

"I can think of something better to do with my time, thanks very much."

He slammed his lips against hers, punishing her with his mouth. 

This was not the exploratory kiss of the night before; this kiss was about revenge. 

He poured all of his anger, his fear, his desire, into this kiss. 

He tried to tell her without words how she affected him. 

How much he hated her.

How much he feared her.

How much he loved her.

His lips chastised her for her words, his teeth cutting against her lower lip, slicing the tender flesh.

She resisted, pushing against him, pulling him towards her.

She kissed him back.

Her hands were tight in his hair, hurting him.

Hating him.

He tasted blood in his mouth. 

It was hot. 

Salty. 

Metallic. 

It stung in his mouth where her teeth were clashing with his. Whether it was her blood or his he didn't know, didn't care. 

He pulled away from her slightly, his breathing heavy, his thoughts racing.

Her lips were swollen from the brief kiss, and they looked heavy and bruised. 

He sighed heavily. Was he always destined to do the wrong thing?

"Sydney, I'm sorry..."

She slapped him.

Hard.

She had a lot of power, and she didn't hold back, striking her open palm against his cheek bone, forcing his head to turn to the side. He sympathized with her foes at that moment, amazed at the force behind the slap. His eyes watered, and for a brief moment he felt as though he had lost his breath. He could feel the welt already rising on his cheek, the blood rushing hotly to the area. 

I guess there was nothing more to say.

He turned his head back to face her. Her breath had caught in her throat in surprise at her own actions. She looked stricken, her face pale against the bruised shock of her lips, her eyes moist with instant regret. Her fingertips came up to his face, hovering over the area they had so recently struck on impulse, not daring to touch him. 

"Vaughn. I'm so sorry. I- I didn't mean to..."

She didn't finish. He knew why. They had already both said and done things they didn't mean. This whole meeting with her had been one big downward spiral, and it was past time to get away from it.

He backed away from her.

He walked around her and through the chain link gate. He paused by the entrance to his little alcove, swearing she had whispered his name. He could feel her behind him, standing with her back to him, motionless. 

He couldn't leave her without a word. He felt he owed her something more.

He was a fool.

"It's all right Sydney. Like you said earlier, don't give it an another thought. Don't forget to pick up the box by the door. I'm sure I'll speak to you later this week."

She didn't answer him, and he didn't expect her to. 

He continued down the corridor, leaving her alone once again.

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Ok, so there will be a chapter four, and hopefully it will be better then this stinker. It may be awhile however, as I'm thinking of writing a smut fest for the C/D April challenge.

Please review anyways!!!


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